


Learning to Fly

by farfetched



Series: Semi Eita and the Swan Maiden [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Swan Maiden, Swan maiden Shirabu, non-binary Semi Eita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-15 23:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21261545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfetched/pseuds/farfetched
Summary: Eita is set the task of ensuring the swan maiden does not escape. It turns out to be much more than they imagined, and lead to an entirely different road to the one they were expecting to walk.It won't be easy, but slowly, Eita will learn to spread their wings through their encounters with someone who has lost his.





	Learning to Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theauthorish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/gifts).

Every morning, the same exchange. The words never change. The result never changes. 

"Where is my skin?"

"Bear me ten children, and you shall have your skin," the emperor states, the rote of the situation and the expected response making his voice emotionless. Bored. 

The swan maiden does as he always does; with a long, elegant sigh, he places his chopsticks down and folds his hands out of sight in his lap. His eyes are cold as they stare at the emperor.  
"Then you shall remain heirless, and I shall never walk free." 

And Eita watches from the corner of their eye as the swan maiden sits there, silent, still, until they all have finished eating. The food on his plate is almost untouched. A mere mouthful of rice. It is all he ever seems to eat; each mealtime, the same question, the same response, and the same answer. 

Then, with the elegance befitting his heritage, he will stand, bow deeply, and excuse himself without permission. His keeper will swiftly follow to stop his escape. The emperor will grind his teeth but say nothing, not to Eita nor his daughter. 

The image of the swan maiden's back remains in Eita's mind, lingering there like sticky rice. There is the irritation of being so disrespectful to the emperor, a man who forces him to do nothing but asks instead, and of the constant refusal. More than that, Eita simply does not understand; surely freedom is worth more than a small amount of dignity? 

But Eita is not in that situation. They cannot possibly understand the mind of the swan maiden, as erratic and esoteric as it appears.

“You, servant,” the emperor says suddenly; Eita jolts from their reverie watching the door. The emperor is giving them a cold look while his daughter is staring down at her plate, lips pinched. “You shall come with me, at once.” 

Panic floods Eita, as they try to ascertain what they have done wrong; nonetheless, they follow silently, down a hundred nightingale corridors, and into the imperial meeting rooms. They believe that they may be close to the swan maiden’s quarters – almost in the centre of the palace to remove any chance of escape. An imperial palace, after all, never sleeps, and one so eye-catching as the swan maiden could not pass by unnoticed. 

Finally, the emperor stops, and faces Eita. Eita bows deeply, and remains so as they are addressed.  
“The current guardian to the swan maiden has become too attached. He will be sent to the isles to rejoin the army at first light,” the emperor states gravely. “Much as it pains me to release a good servant, I trust that you will not befriend the swan maiden, nor betray my trust in you.” 

Eita gulps, but nods. They have no choice.  
“Then you shall be responsible for the maiden. He shall be fed and watered as any other esteemed guest. He shall have that which he desires. I trust that you may convince him to give me some heirs,” the emperor says. He steps forward, and pulls Eita upwards, to look them directly in the eye. His gaze is cold, freezing Eita to the bone. “You shall not let him escape me. There will be dire consequences.” 

Eita can barely muster fluid to their mouth to whisper, “I understand, your imperial highness.” They feel faintly sick; they know they can do the job, but to be threatened so easily… They are not certain if the previous caretaker will truly be sent back to the army or merely… dealt with. Permanently. Eita would not much like to find out. 

The emperor smiles, although it feels more like a knife to Eita’s throat than a friendly sign. Releasing Eita, he makes a dismissive gesture and Eita bows deeply once more, and backs away as fast as they can politely allow. 

They assume their post starts tomorrow; in which case, they shall soon truly meet the maiden.

* * *

The swan maiden is sat in the middle of a courtyard when Eita arrives. He doesn’t seem to have heard Eita enter, so they take a moment to observe; the maiden has his feet dipped into the water, sitting aside the small pond demurely, trailing his fingers through the water. Over his shoulders is a shawl of feathers – not his own, of course, a mixture of numerous birds: none so white as a swan’s. He stares down into the water, and Eita can’t help but notice the beauty, the elegance of the scene. It looks as though teased delicately from an illustrated scroll and placed in the real world before them; the swan maiden’s skin seems to have taken on a luminosity to it, a sheen Eita has never seen before. 

Eita wants to stand there forever just looking, but the unpleasant thought about the previous caretaker’s uncertain conclusion emerges after a long moment, and Eita frowns. Quietly, they retreat just enough to be able to pretend they have not been there for a time, and re-enter, ensuring that they make more noise. 

The swan maiden glances up, and stares at them. His skin has returned to the duller tone that Eita would consider as normal. They are hit with a desire to find out if that’s true. They also do not wish to fight in a war. 

“Ishida has been replaced?” the swan maiden muses, sounding neither upset nor happy about this. More… factual. 

“He’s been sent to fight,” Eita says blandly, displaying none of their uncertainty about that statement. “I am indeed his replacement.” 

The swan maiden snorts.  
“And you shall fail, like the rest.” He pulls one foot out of the water, rests it on the rock he has sat upon, and rests his head on his knee. Deft hands shift the yukata fabric to ensure he remains decent. He stares once more at the water, long eyelashes hooding his eyes. “I shall not be tempted to lie with the woman. I shall not be persuaded. I wish only for my freedom.” 

Eita bristles. So blunt, so dismissive. Why, he has everything he could possibly need here! Eita has never left the palace, and they don’t complain – why, Eita did not even get private rooms, nor time off to idle within their thoughts! 

“Then we come to an impasse,” Eita states, loudly. The swan maiden snorts.  
“But of course. You, like the others, do not understand why I would not lie with a beautiful woman in return for my freedom,” the swan maiden remarks blithely, “I have explained many times before, so I shall not repeat my words. It could only be another prisoner who doesn’t understand why I do not take the supposed easy route to freedom.” His eyes pin onto Eita, who feels a shiver of rage hit them. 

“I am no prisoner, _maiden_. I am free to leave, unlike you, stripped of your wings. I can go anytime I wish,” they hiss, blood in their mouth. How _dare_ he even _suggest_\- 

The swan maiden is smirking.  
“Ah, deluded like the other prisoners. You might have, before. You know too much to be a free man now. After all, you’re here in front of me.” His smirk drops, and his face becomes deadly serious. “Not one of you in this palace understand. Not one of you will until you are killed for it.” 

Eita feels their mouth become a thin line, and their throat tightens. The inherent threat sinks into their skin – not from the swan maiden, though. Blunt and sharp words aside, he speaks only truth. Eita does not want to acknowledge that, but it is as true as the eyes on their back, watching, watching. 

They have never tried to leave. They don’t know anyone who has. 

Anyone who has left has never returned, that much is true. Their fates; unknown. 

Eita clears their throat, glances askance.  
“I need a name to refer to you by,” they mutter. 

There is a long pause; Eita cannot bring themselves to look, and wonders if they will get a response. 

Finally, though: “You may refer to be as Shirabu.” 

Shirabu it is. Eita doesn’t think it is his real name, but it will do.

* * *

Shirabu is… infuriating. He is precocious, demanding, blunt, disrespectful, and utterly enthralling. Eita finds that they do not even dislike their job, even if Shirabu is maddening. 

Shirabu refuses to explain the reason he will not give the emperor children; Eita stops bothering to ask. Unsurprisingly, they spend a large amount of their days with Shirabu, even if the two of them are not talking. Eita will sweep, or clean, or fix something, and Shirabu will sit close to the pond. Eita thinks sometimes that he sings quietly, but does not mention it. Mostly, they watch. They watch Shirabu stare into the water, they watch Shirabu stare at the sky, they watch Shirabu write calligraphy. They don’t know if Shirabu has ever not been elegant; it is effortless and inbuilt, a way of being more than a choice. 

Shirabu is entrancing. Eita wishes he wasn’t. The emperor asks if they have made progress; they have not. They do not think they will. They want to know why Shirabu refuses, because while it could be petty revenge from being trapped – and there is certainly an element of that – there seems to be more, Eita thinks. When he mentions it, his eyes cloud over, as though he thinks not of dread, but of a memory. It is not a future he dreads, it is a past he recalls, Eita thinks. They have no proof, of course, but the way Shirabu speaks… he’s not opposed to it because of the acts involved. He’s not opposed to children. 

Months slide by, and Eita gets no closer to the truth. What they do get closer to is Shirabu. 

They only realise this after a comment by one of the other servants, murmured under her breath during the meal, implying that they seek to keep Shirabu to themselves, and are succeeding. They snort, disbelieving, but it returns to them later on, and they are unable to avoid thinking about it. 

They both have gone through the winter, a time of longing as Shirabu watched his pond freeze over and commented that the river he used to live near was too fast to freeze. The emperor’s daughter got frustrated and tried to force herself onto Shirabu, and received the vicious end of a swan’s temper in return. He was quiet that day, staring into the frozen water, the koi carp swimming deep below the surface as Eita tried to convince him to return inside. 

It was one of the few times that Shirabu did not seem elegant to them. Rather than feeling smug that they saw it, they more feel sad for Shirabu. Annoyed with the emperor’s daughter, for such behaviour is usually beneath her. Angry with the emperor for refusing to back down and let Shirabu go, nor even asking why he refuses. Ashamed of themself for not being able to calm the situation. 

Yet the spring blooms early, a week-long wave of warmth melting Shirabu’s pond to icy fluid once more, and Eita finds him floating in it, and smiles. They wish, to themself, that they could see Shirabu in all his glory; flying up there in the rising sun, orange light illuminating his wings as he goes overhead; being back with his family and enjoying his freedom; swimming in his natural habitat, smiling at ease for he has no supervision. 

They wish they could let him out of here. They wish they could return his skin to him. 

Which is a most dangerous thought indeed. Eita still hears the echoes of the emperor’s threats, and Shirabu’s comments of the palace workers equally being held prisoner – Eita being held prisoner – haunt their thoughts even when they are away from Shirabu, the rare times that they are. 

Eita starts to wonder what would occur if they did happen to walk through those doors and out. 

Each day, the emperor still has the same exchange from Shirabu. Now though, Eita watches closely. Eita has been asked if they are making progress multiple times, and obfuscated the answer in meaningless words. The longer they spend with Shirabu, the less they wish to force him into it. The more they wish to release him from this farce. 

Serendipity, however, is served on silver platters, and Eita will lay their head upon them for the chop, for they can be most impetuous. The emperor is pulled away to deal more closely with the brewing conflict. The emperor’s daughter decides that Shirabu is frigid and shifts to spend some time in the summer palace, even against the bequest of the emperor himself. 

It leaves rooms unoccupied, and more importantly, unsupervised. Eita finds themself staying up until the early hours of the morning, and borne of their lifetime in the palace, sneaking to the emperor’s quarters to search under the cover of dark. They’ve become adept at silencing their steps, intimately acquainted with every floorboard in the palace and knowledgeable of the troublesome ones. It is too easy to break in, as though no servant would ever dare to step there for fear of the consequences. 

No cupboard remains unopened, no object unturned. They return everything to exactly how it was prior to their search; slight changes will be accounted for by the servants who clean in here. Eita, finding nothing, even checks the walls and floors for secret panels. 

Nothing. 

Eita had felt certain it must be in here, but a thorough search over several nights concedes nothing. If not here, where else?

It takes them several more days to consider where else it may be hidden, and again, it is nothing more than serendipity. Shirabu decides he would like to try his hand at embroidery, having seen Eita at it; Eita however requires further supplies. After a short chain of enquiries, they are pointed towards the emperor’s daughter’s chambers – or near, at least. There is a sewing room near there after all, one that Eita has never visited – seeing as they are considered a man and therefore unnecessary to help with embroidery, despite their declarations otherwise – and therefore had never considered. 

It occurs to them, whilst they search for suitable thread in the colours that Shirabu had requested, that they could be so close. If Shirabu’s skin is not in the emperor’s quarters… 

Only ladies are supposed to enter the emperor’s daughter’s rooms. But there is no one present to remind them, and with the intended occupant across the country… 

It is a simple thing to get in. Inside, however, is entirely new territory. A very quick sweep of the room returns nothing, as expected. They have a sense that they are on the right track, somehow. Everyone would expect the emperor to have the skin, being the one who took Shirabu in the first place. Perhaps not even his daughter knows; perhaps Eita is wrong, but they’ve learnt to trust their intuition, sometimes. 

And theirs is telling them this is the right path. They just need to walk it far enough.

* * *

The emperor’s daughter’s quarters are in a part of the palace with heavier foot traffic. Even during the night, there are a few servants and security persons milling around, advisors still in the palace to deal with, some of which are up all hours strategizing. Eita treads carefully, plans their footsteps and timings carefully. It takes a few nights to work that out, that, a few close calls and one notable moment wherein they are seen. When questioned on their presence there, they swiftly lie that Shirabu had needed attendance and demanded paper for calligraphy. The guard rolls their eyes and moves along, but Eita is shaken to the point where they return to their room. To be caught trespassing in the chambers of the elite, a mere servant like them… Surely they would be put to death. Eita cannot have that until they have at least freed Shirabu. 

It has to be done before the emperor returns. He has his suspicions about Eita, they can tell – they’ve been watched for a while now, and they know that the emperor will not hesitate. Eita always hopes their growing fondness for Shirabu does not show, although they fear it does. 

They do not have forever. 

And so, eventually, they manage to get into the emperor’s daughter’s quarters, and begin their search in earnest. It is the latest hours of the night, or perhaps rather the earliest hours of the morning, when the palace is at its quietest – the strategy advisors having largely passed out, the servants grasping their short hours of sleep, like Eita ought to be. But Eita has more important things to do than gain on a few nights’ sleep. 

They are careful to tread lightly, and once more, leave nothing unturned and nothing unopened. Finally, on the third night of searching, they strike gold; in the depths of her closet room, a secret panel behind several racks of clothes and a pile of folded sheets. Eita prises it open, heart in their chest, and finds- 

It must be it. The emperor would never keep something so tattered, so dusty. Eita thought it would be something elegant to match Shirabu himself; instead they are greeted with a shabby off white cloak, feathers clinging onto it for dear life, clogged with dust and clumped together. It is in a sorry state, and Eita almost, _almost_ puts it back. It can’t be it. 

But it can, and it must. If it is not, Eita will go through the process of returning it, but in the same breath they think it must be special to someone, and therefore worth hiding. The closet room is the deepest of the chambers in this complex, requiring navigation through several usually heavily occupied rooms. 

Somewhere very difficult for a prominent person to enter. Somewhere almost impossible for a swan maiden to enter, unfamiliar with the palace at large. 

Eita takes a breath, and returns everything back to normal aside from the cloak, set aside for a moment while they erase all other evidence of their crime. 

They curse, for a moment, their lack of planning in having no receptacle to place the cloak into; instead, they fold it gingerly into a square as flat as they are able without further damaging it, and tuck it into their clothes, up against their chest. The loose feathers tickle against their ribs, and they resist the urge to scratch for fear of irreparable damage to it. They weave their way out, ensuring before they leave that it does not look like an area subject to searching, and gingerly pick their way back to their rooms, adjacent to Shirabu’s. 

Part of them would like nothing more than to barge in and tell Shirabu now. Every second that they retain the cloak is incriminating, every minute it is in their possession is a risk. Best to return it at once… 

But Shirabu will leave once he has the cloak back. Shirabu will transform back and fly away though the open courtyard set there purely to mock him. 

Eita doesn’t want him gone just yet. There is simply no way that Eita can leave; they have no income, no way of supporting themself outside the palace. So when Shirabu leaves, he will leave Eita behind once more, deprived of interest, of a friend, of… Well, best not even hope, but it will be a great loss to them. 

Equally, Eita needs to return it at night, when there is the least chance of failure. It would be horrific to go to so much effort to be foiled at the final hurdle as Shirabu actually leaves. Whilst Eita knows, realistically, that Shirabu is generally sensible and would know to wait, they have also observed the rash moment of temper Shirabu can be prone to with pressure. They want him to succeed. 

So, they shall have one last day. Shirabu may not know it is their last day together, but Eita shall, and that, in the grand scheme of everything, is all that matters. 

It is, of course, Eita that will remain a prisoner. They give up their freedom to return Shirabu’s. It seems a worthy sacrifice, after all. Being a prisoner is all they’ve ever known, so they have nothing to miss; Shirabu knows the wide open sky first-hand, and Eita thinks it’ll be nice to give that back to him.

* * *

It is not as though they do anything special. What would there be to do? Eita joins Shirabu in doing some embroidery, and amuse themself when Shirabu gets impatient with it, cursing as he stabs his thumb multiple times. They spend a while dipping their feet in the pond, watching the koi alongside Shirabu. They converse about everything and nothing as usual; Eita does their best to coax Shirabu into eating far more than he usually does, in the hopes of him having more energy to fly with. They collect a pack with high energy foods for Shirabu to take with him. Mentally, they are saying goodbye with every word, every action. Mentally, they wish for time to slow, to stretch, to allow themself the beautiful illusion of company. 

Yet while Eita is many things, a miracle worker is not one. The sun creeps lower, lower, and the day grows longer and longer still. The dark shrouds the two of them, the palace falling quiet around them, until only the faint light of the stars and the rising crescent moon illuminates them. Eita lights a small lantern, and smiles faintly at Shirabu. His eyes are a question, but Eita takes a mere second to absorb the sight of them, only memory to continue on with, most likely. 

“Stay there,” they say as they stand. “I’ll just fetch something.” 

“Is it to take long? I will be retiring soon,” Shirabu sighs, staring up at the stars. Eita wants to paint that picture as they look back; Shirabu on the small bridge over the pond, legs dangling downwards, toes just dipping into the water, torso arched backwards and resting on his hands as he stares up. Shirabu thinks tomorrow will be another day like the last. Shirabu thinks the day will dawn tomorrow with the same view. 

Eita knows this is only true for themself. 

Taking a deep breath to steady their nerves, they dash off to their chambers, only close by, and softly tuck the dusty cloak close to their side. They’d attempted to dust a modicum of the grime off of it, although they had largely failed miserably. They hope Shirabu will not be too enraged; both by their hiding it for a day, and the state of it. 

They step lightly back, and find Shirabu in much the same position, only with his eyes closed. It affords Eita a moment of silence to fix this image to memory, to cast it in bronze and save it, to embroider it to silk they can ill afford to keep, to remind them of the time they sacrificed themself to free a supernatural being. 

The thought of life without looking after Shirabu is desolate. They say this not purely out of the loneliness, losing something of a kindred spirit, a friend, but also of the oncoming doom the future will hold for them. The emperor will know that they could not possibly have stumbled upon this. The emperor will know that they trespassed terribly, and chose to do this, and the emperor does not take kindly to traitors. 

He went to such trouble, Eita gathers, to ensnare Shirabu, and Eita will undo everything in a single defining moment. 

Their soft intake of breath is all it takes to alert Shirabu to their presence, and he glances down his nose at them, curious. He frowns at them, and the cloak in their arms for a moment. His eyes widen, and he faces them fully, leaning closer. 

There is no going back, now. 

“I–” they start, then clear their throat, “I found this. It might be of interest to you,” they murmur, and step forwards again, and hold it out. Shirabu stares down at it, and ever so gingerly reaches his hands out to take it from them. 

He unfurls it, until a corner dips into the water and the fish sleepily investigate. 

“My skin,” he breathes, sounding as though he dare not believe. Eita folds their hands in front of them to stop them shaking.  
“It got dirtied, although I thought it best to allow you to take care of it, being that I know nothing of cleaning the cloak of a swan maiden.” Shirabu huffs softly, at that. “I’m sure you are more adept.” 

“It is simple for me, although I may be a little rusted at it…” Shirabu furrows his brow, squashing his eyes closed and murmuring under his breath. With a grand flick of the cloak- 

It seems to sparkle in the faint light all of a sudden. The feathers have rearranged themselves, new ones filling the gaps. It glows with a soft warm luminescence, all the dirt and dust banished somehow. Eita can only stare at the feat of impossibility, whilst Shirabu turns his gaze towards them. 

“With this, I can leave!” His eyes sparkle. Eita nods, pressing their lips together into a forced smile. Shirabu doesn’t notice. “I cannot thank you enough, Semi-san,” he rushes to say, but in the same breath, turns back to his cloak and ignores Eita. He seems fascinated with it, turning it which way and marvelling at his work in renewing it. Eita wills the tight feeling in their throat down, wills the ache in their eyes to go away. 

“I brought some food, in case you needed it,” they say, managing to keep their voice level. Shirabu nods.  
“I’ll take it with me. I need to go,” he asserts, more to the cloak than himself. He pauses for a second, then takes a deep breath, and swings the cloak over his shoulders. 

Quite abruptly, a swan stands in his wake. It is no ordinary swan, Eita doesn’t think, even having never seen one, because a normal swan would not shimmer. A normal swan would not seem quite so intelligent, nor carry such an extra elegance to its bones. It- he, Eita reminds themself – stretches his wings apart, wider and wider. He has a fantastic wingspan, and each feather is perfectly placed and aligned, no sign of the dust and dirt of moments ago. Eita steps back, places the food-laden cloth in front of them and coughs lightly, gesturing to it when Shirabu turns his head. 

There are no further goodbyes; Shirabu picks up the cloth in his beak by the knot in the cloth, nods his head at Eita, and steps to one side of the courtyard to get a run-up. Doing so, he lifts off at the last second, and with a graze of his foot on the roof, he disappears out of sight, leaving Eita quite alone. 

It seems all too silent now, without him, and to be left without a second thought- 

Eita curls up in bed and lets their guard down, finally, along with the tears of fear for what is to become of them, and for what they have now lost. This is the only night they will allow themself this luxury, but it will haunt them for a long time to come.

* * *

Their story, when it is found that the swan maiden is missing two days later, is that he must have somehow snuck out late at night when the palace was sleeping. Early on in his stay, Shirabu had tried this, so it is not impossible, but it does not relieve Eita of suspicion, nor will it save them when the emperor returns to find the cloak missing as well. Eita mostly finds that they ache, similar to after their mother passed on, consumption taking her soul far beyond the menial chores of the palace. 

They are not a part of the search teams that set out to find the swan maiden, who are unaware that Shirabu’s time of departure was 48 hours earlier. Eita keeps that to themself, the only thing they have left to help Shirabu now. With no use now the swan maiden has fled, Eita is assimilated back into the general staff, and at a rather lower position than before. They don’t mind; the physical labour transfers the ache from their heart to their muscles, unused to the work, and the exhaustion keeps their mind off the loss and the dread. Letters sent to the emperor have not had replies yet, but they will surely come, along with his punishment. 

Eita lives their days now in a stupor. No use thinking of their fate, they only need to await it. It will arrive, some day. Soon, most likely. The rest of the staff keeps sending them glances, showing they also know full well what will happen to Eita. 

They spend their days in silence. They listen more than they used to, and wonder how they ever used to be content with this. With not knowing what lies beyond these walls, except from the few books they have read and the stories they have been told. Now they wonder what sights Shirabu is seeing, what mountains he might be flying over, what other beings are out there. Life was so much easier when they questioned nothing. Shirabu has opened their eyes and welcomed misery into their life, and yet they cannot find it in them to be annoyed. Perhaps it is their own fault for not questioning things earlier. Perhaps it was better this way, being so ignorantly blissful all this time. 

Perhaps, if they get a next life, they shall fly then. 

Days pass, then weeks. The numbness settles into their bones and etches a home there; the summer heat comes and goes, and still no news from the emperor. 

Then quite suddenly they are summoned. 

Not, as expected, to the emperor’s chambers, nor the meeting rooms. Not to the courtyard, where they had pondered Shirabu might return, caught. No, it is to the front gate they are summoned, and they go with dread, terrible expectations in their mind. 

A good few people are there to meet Eita. Intimidating people, tall ones; there are many of them, all shapes and sizes and hues of skin and all carrying the luminous glow Shirabu had held, that time Eita had seen him unawares. 

The front man looks rather stern, short dark hair spouting in an unruly manner from his head and piercing eyes. Another is taller still, and red hair stretching up to the clouds. Over all of their shoulders are pure white feathered cloaks. 

They are staring at a flock of swan maidens. 

“We are in your gratitude,” the stern one starts, deep voice reverberating. He has an incredible aura of power to him, and they can almost feel the guards quaking behind them. “Therefore we would like to extend our protections to you, Semi Eita.” 

The red-haired one snorts. “So formal, Wakatoshi!” he shifts his wild-eyed gaze over to Eita, grinning widely. “Semi-semi, come with us. Nothing in that stuffy old palace, is there?” 

“Tendou.” The stern one, ‘Wakatoshi’, states. Tendou huffs dramatically, and twists, bending over backwards such that Eita is concerned about his balance.  
“Whaaaat? He looks interesting, and Kenjirou said so too. He’s going to sulk if Semi-semi doesn’t come with us.” 

Eita doesn’t quite know who Kenjirou is, but they have an idea. 

“I don’t have anything to collect,” they remark. All their minimal valuable items – sentimental value only – are kept on them for fear of being taken. They only very rarely leave them anywhere else. “I’ll go with you.” 

Tendou blinks. His eyes are so _wide_. Then he grins. “Great! Let’s go, then!” Tendou strides forward and slings an arm over their shoulder, and starts to march away. 

“Hey, you can’t-” a guard starts, behind them, and Tendou glances over their shoulder. Eita can’t really see that well, but the expression looks so cold and unrepentant.  
“I can,” Tendou drawls, as though the guard is incapable of understanding, “And I _will_. You see, you take one of us, and we take one of yours. A fair deal, no?” Tendou shrugs, and walks a bit more, shepherding Eita further away from the palace then pushing them away towards the group. One, a dark skinned man, smiles softly at them in a way no one has ever done. Eita doesn’t quite know what to do with it, all this newness. 

“I’m Leon, I gather you are Semi?” Eita nods, dumbfounded. “Tendou and Ushijima can deal with this, don’t worry,” Leon murmurs reassuringly, and Eita just nods again and turns to observe the situation. 

“And maybe worry less about losing one servant and more about who takes over, ‘cause your emperor is dead, by the way,” Tendou snaps, grinning in a way that is unsettling at the guards. That gets them all talking, but Tendou spins on one foot, his smile turning more genuine. “Move out, swans!” 

And so, Eita finds themself abducted by a flock of swan maidens. It’s not an entirely unpleasant position to be in, if unexpected. They think they might miss the palace, not because of the building or the people within it, but more down to the feeling of knowing a place so well. They’ve spent their entire life there so far, but equally, they’re not too upset to move on to pastures new. The fact that Shirabu might be there is just a bonus.

* * *

So begins several days of travelling, filled with the swan maidens introducing themselves and marvelling at just how easy it was to take Eita. Eita sees more different sceneries in one day than they ever have in their whole life before, and they relish the experience, barely able to sleep for anticipation of the wonders of the next new day. The swans complain about the camping and the moving each day, the early starts and the cold, but Eita feels as though they only just started living the moment they left the palace. 

On the fourth day or so, they enter a village, set in a hilly landscape, a river cutting through the centre of it. Shrouded by woods, there is a faint fog all around the village, only adding to the mystery, and the sense that this place has existed untouched for thousands of years and will continue to exist as such. 

Eita feels their mind relax in a way it never has done before. Empty, but not numb. Tranquil, perhaps. They want to explore it. Make it a new place to know inside and out. Far more peaceful than the palace, but Eita thinks they will like that. 

Tendou saunters ahead of the group, and hollers, “We’re back!” to which several swans on the river lift their heads from underwater. One does so with more vigour than the others, and it only takes a second for it to start making headway towards them. As soon as it hits the shore, it transforms in a flurry of motion and becomes Shirabu, securing his cloak over his shoulder and striding towards them. 

“Semi!” Shirabu calls, looking more excited than Eita had ever seen him at the palace. Leon shakes his head in bemusement, Tendou snorts, and Ushijima just looks puzzled. Kawanishi starts shooing the various members of the group away, and turns one excitable younger swan around, muttering something about showing him later. Shirabu halts in front of them, and wrings his hands. “You’re here.” 

“I am,” they state, still in a state of disbelief themself. Shirabu glances down, gaining a pink tinge to their cheeks.  
“I’m… I’m sorry I left you there. Then they wouldn’t let me go back.” Shirabu glances at them, perhaps expecting anger. Eita does feel annoyed, but it’s not something they’re going to dwell on now. Later, when things have settled a bit more.  
“I’m glad you didn’t get caught,” Eita murmurs, “And I’m glad to be here now, anyway.” Shirabu nods, then looks around, catches the many eyes on them.  
“Urgh. Come on, let’s sit.” Blustering, he gets the two of them into a small cottage; rustically decorated but homely, it is nothing like the home Eita would have imagined for a swan maiden, had they thought about it before. Eita thinks they much prefer it to the palace. 

Shirabu makes them a cup of tea while they take a seat at the table. Whilst waiting, they remember their questions, and with little left to lose, they ask them one last time. 

“Why wouldn’t you give the emperor any heirs in return for freedom?” 

Shirabu pauses for a second, then huffs a quiet laugh.  
“It wouldn’t have worked regardless,” he explains, matter-of-fact. “First, to imprison me to attempt to gain some kind of supernatural heir to the throne is not something a reasonable person would do. Second, she did not even try to get to know me, didn’t even think of me as human. Third…” he falters for a moment, finishes pouring the tea and shifts it over to the table, not quite looking Eita in the eyes. “Third, for our kind to make any viable offspring, the couple have to love each other. I thought it better to sacrifice my freedom instead of dooming children to a life shorter than perhaps even a day.” 

Eita takes a moment to process the information. In light of that, Shirabu, for all his faults, for all his annoying smug attitude and blunt rudeness and lack of regard for authority, has been thinking of other people all along. Or, at least, some other people. 

It’s… strangely charming. Eita smiles faintly into their tea. Perhaps now they can start anew, on a more equal footing. Eita is certain that Shirabu will continue to annoy them intensely, but also that they’ll be able to cultivate this friendship once more, outside the constraints of prisoner and guard, of servant and guest, of all the esoteric social structures in the palace. The two of them can grow from here, and, Eita thinks, perhaps grow to something more. 

They like the sound of this new life already. Freedom is a new taste in their mouth, and they can learn its forms well, alongside Shirabu, alongside all the swan maidens and the doubtless other beings who inhabit these lands unknown to most. 

Right now, freedom tastes sweet.

* * *

Months trickle by with an ease of being that Eita will continue to relish for the rest of their life. Not being watching, assessed for their perceived usefulness and efficiency, not being expected to automatically know what they are doing each second of the day; it’s been freeing, more than they’d expected. 

Eita gets involved in the community, fixing things and trying to help fetching food, although the swans are far better at it than Eita will ever be. They makes friends with them, to varying degrees. Ushijima is no good for conversation, but watching him hunt is a marvel; the strength and ease with which he and Tendou work together is worthy of any theatre. Kawanishi and Leon are great to play games with, and good to chat about things. They enjoy Goshiki and the other younger swans’ enthusiasm, desperate for stories of the palace, whether real or true. 

And, of course, Shirabu. In his own environment, he becomes less caustic and more teasing. He’s clearly more comfortable with himself here. He also seems more comfortable with Eita here – which is rather good because, in lieu of anywhere else to go, Shirabu gets unanimously volunteered to share his house with Eita. They would have complained, except Shirabu did not look entirely put out by this. 

They’re not quite sure how it got to this, though. 

This being: sunlight filtering through the cracks in the door, a pleasant autumn day awaiting them outside, the wood around them bursting into a whole spectrum of colours, a gentle breeze humming around the house. Shirabu’s cloak hanging just beside the bed. Eita, in bed. In Shirabu’s bed, facing him as they watch each other. 

There had been a celebration yesterday, a harvest festival or some such event, and it had been very late when the revelry had petered out. Eita had moaned about getting the futon out. Shirabu had laughed and pulled them onto the bed, and they’d both just accepted it at the time. They don’t think anything really happened, but it’s a boundary crossed for sure; Eita isn’t certain whether Shirabu is alright with that line being toed over. Equally, Eita is comfortable as they are, and Shirabu is watching them with half-lidded eyes. 

Eita decides to push their luck. They’ve gotten enough confidence in themself to know that even if this goes wrong, they will have options. That is the lesson freedom has taught them; as such, they reach a hand out and brush Shirabu’s hair behind his ear. Shirabu widens his eyes, and Eita goes to retract their hand – until, that is, Shirabu reaches out to grab onto their hand. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers.  
“Okay,” Eita returns, and Shirabu wrinkles his nose – but a smile plays on his lips regardless.  
“You smell.”  
Eita uses their other hand to softly flick him on the forehead. “So do you, to be honest. We did dance a lot.” 

Shirabu hums in agreement.  
“I think I can live with that. You’re here, after all.” 

Eita just pauses, because they don’t know what to _do_ with that. Is it encouragement? Shirabu’s face has gone red, and his eyes wonder.  
“I’m honoured that my presence can help so much,” Eita mutters, precisely because they don’t know what to say. Shirabu snorts.  
“Honestly? You have no idea.” Eita raises their eyebrows. Shirabu takes one hand from around Eita’s to press it to his face. “How do you think I got caught in the first place? I got in an argument and wandered off. You got me back here. I’d still be in that palace if not for you.” Shirabu takes a look at them and their growing smile, and fakes a grimace. “Don’t let it go to your head, idiot. But thank you.” 

“I’m… just glad I made the effort,” Eita says, chuckling as he recalls those fraught nights of sneaking around the imperial quarters. Shirabu squints at him through his fingers. “Obviously your cloak wasn’t just on the floor. I had to look for it.” 

“And where was it,” Shirabu asks, his voice thin. He’s removed his hand entirely from his face.  
“Right in the back of the emperor’s daughter’s rooms. It took me ages.” 

There is a pause where Shirabu just stares at them, then a sudden shift of movement. Shirabu’s lips are on theirs, and Eita’s eyes are so wide as to be painful – for a second. Then they realise what this is, and that this is something they’ve wanted for a long while now, and they relax into it. They have no experience with kissing, no knowledge and have no guide to follow, but they decide not to worry. If Shirabu is kissing them while they are both newly awoken, and direly in need of a wash, perhaps whether they are good or not is secondary. 

It does not last long, but it sends a warm feeling all through their body, so entirely foreign and yet not unwelcome at all. Shirabu remains close, so close that Eita can see the detail in his eyes, each freckle on his face, every faint scratch and scar, each individual hair. They could look for a long time, if Shirabu would let them. 

They smile, and Shirabu seems to relax, a lazy smile on his face as he looks at Eita with- 

They dare not think it, not yet. That might be later down the line, or not. They can’t tell the future. 

“You keep making me want to turn you into one of us,” Shirabu murmurs. Eita blinks once, twice.  
“You can do that?” Shirabu nods. “Honestly?” Shirabu nods again.  
“There’s a bit of a ceremony, and it’s a bit complicated, but not awful. I… I wasn’t born a swan, not like Ushijima. Tendou was human, too.” He pauses for a long moment, seeming to be finding words. “But it’s not- it’s not reversible. You can only go one way. And you’ve seen how we’re seen by humans.” 

It’s not even a decision, really. Eita has nothing left in the human world to tie them to it. If they could stay here forever, that would be their ideal situation. They’ve worked enough in their life up until now, and going back would be pointless now. 

“I want to do it.” Eita is not always that certain on things, but this they know. “I want to, because I want to stay here, and I want to stay here with _you_.” 

Shirabu goes a fantastic shade of red, and buries his head in their chest. Eita can feel their heartbeat racing, but instead of dread like it usually was at the palace, it is anticipation, this time. 

This world has done far more to accept them than the palace ever did. It is no wonder that they wish to stay; in more ways than one, they are learning to fly, and will continue do so.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! I apologise if there are any pronoun errors, please just point them out to me and I'll fix them! 
> 
> Ella, I hope you like this, and that it might make your day a little brighter!


End file.
